Before 'Once Upon a Time'
by Sebe
Summary: Before everything, John saw glimpses of who his boys would be. Weechesters. Read Author's Notes for more info.
1. Cry

Info: Pre-series. John's just begun hunting and dealing with a motherless four-year-old and infant. And Dean seems more keyed into his little brother than their father is.

AN: Possibly will be turned into a series of drabbles on the boys from John's point of view. Before destiny and fate; when there was only a single monster-hunting father and two very special brothers.

Summary: Before everything, John saw glimpses of who his boys would be.

**Cry**

"Go to sleep Sammy," John begged "Please."

John sat in a chair in the main room of the small, one bedroom he'd managed to lease for a bit. He held Sammy as the infant continued to cry.

John felt like he might too. He missed Mary. Bone deep missed her, like a part of his soul had been torn away. He was trying so hard to find what killed her, but every step he took toward her was like moving in molasses and seemed to bring him further from his boys.

He was always gone. Always…hunting. This new life he'd never known until his old one was snatched away from him.

From all of them.

John was worn and weary and squirming package in his arms just wouldn't quiet down.

God he was tired…

"Daddy?"

The lined face looked up blearily and tried for a smile at his oldest.

"Did Sammy wake you? Go back to bed Dean."

The boy looked unsure, cautious in his pajamas, but he came toward his father anyway.

"I can take care of Sammy."

John smiled then and shook his head.

"I've got him kiddo. Go on back to sleep."

But Dean wouldn't be persuaded it seemed. More insistently, he told John again.

"I can take care of Sammy."

The man was taken aback for a moment. That had sounded like more of an order than a request. Like Dean was telling him what he was going to do. And sure enough, the four year old's little arms were held out demandingly, a slight crease to his brow.

Finally, John acquiesced. Weariness and confusion pulling him into the decision.

"Alright Dean. Sit here and be careful." John instructed. "Support his head-"

"I know." Clipped, like he was offended his father wasn't aware that of _course _he knew how to take care of his baby brother.

The new hunter was uncertain, but as soon as he placed the loud little thing in Dean's arms, the older brother started shushing Sammy. Tiny hands pulled at the blanket and swaddled the infant more tightly in it.

Really, John didn't think the toddler would have much luck, but he weaved his way to the bedroom anyway, telling his son to come get him if_ anything_ happened, if he needed _anything_.

Dean nodded at him distractedly, like he was being a bother.

John landed on top of the covers, still fully clothed and feeling sleep rushing in on him. As he went under, his last thought was of how quiet the house was.


	2. First of the First

Author's Notes: Weechesters. Set around a year after Mary's death. So Sam's 18-24 months. Dean around 5 years old.

Summary: Before everything, John saw glimpses of who his boys would be. This chapter: John's first heartbreak over Sam.

**First of the First**

John watched as a grinning Dean sat cross-legged on the threadbare rug in the middle of the room, Sammy sat across from him.

The toddler babbled on and on happily, clapping his hands and pawing at the toys in Dean's hands as his older brother created elaborate scenarios with the toy car and the plastic tyrannosaurus. He coached Sam, trying to get him to complete the word, his first word.

"Come on Sammy, say it. Say 'dad'."

John smiled tightly.

"Dean, I'll be back in a bit. Just running to the store next door. You good here?"

"Yeah dad, we're fine."

Dean barely glanced up, wholly concentrated on trying to wring that word from Sammy.

John grabbed his wallet and keys. Grabbed his jacket and walked out the front door. He closed it behind him and leaned his back against it.

The hunter covered his eyes and took a deep breath. His youngest was about to speak for the first time and he was running away, going out for something he didn't need just because he didn't want to be in that room when Sam spoke.

John had heard the baby babbling for a while now. He heard the first, more distinct sounds this morning while he was researching an old Latin ritual and he knew he couldn't be there to hear the word.

"_Dad, dad, I'm gonna get him to say it! I think he can do it today."_ Dean's excited voice had said. And the kid hadn't stopped coaching him yet.

John heaved a breath and pulled away from the door, walking toward the road.

Because he had heard the sounds Sammy had been making. The 'D-du-d-' bursts of breath. And even though the first sounds were correct, John knew they weren't for him.

So he set out to the road to walk when he could have driven. To give himself more time away, more of a chance that this rite of passage would be over by the time he got back.

Because he just couldn't be there when the first name his youngest ever spoke wasn't his.


	3. All In

Author's Notes: Set around the timeline of the Supernatural comic "Rising Son". After hunters have begun figuring out that there's something different about Sam Winchester. Dean is 11, Sam is 7.

Summary: John's been hearing whispers in the hunting world about his youngest. He and Dean will protect Sam.

**All In**

John had been home for a week. He had gotten the boys settled, scraped up enough money that they would be able to get by when he left again, and called Pastor Jim to keep tabs on them for him should anything go wrong.

Recent events weighed heavily on his mind. Silas's death, the hunters after Sam, the warning that Sam would bring something terrible, _be_ something terrible when he grew up. He didn't want to believe it, but…

The hunter sighed. He couldn't deny that there was something…off about his youngest. Something different. What if they were right? What if Sam was a monster?

John shook his head, clearing the betraying thoughts. Sam was his son. He would die before letting anything happen to him. The others were wrong, crazy…

They had to be.

The man rounded the corner of the house headed toward the backyard where the kids had been playing. He saw them both splayed out on the grass, looking exhausted but perfectly content side-by-side. A smile emerged on John's face. This is what their lives should be. Tag and hide-and-go-seek and no future but the afternoon.

His smile dropped a bit as he overheard their conversation.

"Dean?"

Dean's eyes stayed closed, head resting on his arms.

"Yea?"

There was a pause and Dean opened his eyes to look over at Sam

"What, Sammy?"

"…What do you think I'll be when I grow up?"

"I dunno. You got plenty of time to figure it out."

Sam frowned.

"Yeah…"

Dean furrowed his brow at his sibling's dejected voice and turned to look up through the leaves of the tree branch above them.

"You'll be my brother."

"Huh?"

"When you grow up, you'll be my brother."

"I'm your brother now."

Dean rolled his eyes.

"I know that, idiot. You'll still be my brother when you grow up."

Sam seemed to think about that for a moment and slowly smiled, satisfied with the answer. He joined Dean in gazing at the canopy above them.

John was worried about what the future might hold for his sons, but maybe they would be alright. He sighed and leaned against the house praying to a god he didn't really believe in that his boys could stay like this forever.

John called out.

"Boys, time for dinner. Come on in."

They both stood, brushing dirt off their clothes and ran up to him. John walked ahead and the boys fell into step beside each other, trailing behind him.

As they got to the front porch, the widower heard the conversation behind him.

This time when Dean answered Sam, he didn't pause a moment, didn't even have to think about it.

"Dean, what'll _we_ be when we grow up."

"Together."

John smiled.


	4. Static

A/N: Sam is 5, Dean is 9

Summary: John races to save his boys, but finds them quite safe. He tries not to look at his youngest any different.

**Static**

John ran blind, tears already in his eyes because he knew no one could survive against that thing. Especially not two little boys under 10. He was cursing and denying and swearing to Mary that he was so _sorry_…

"Dad!"

John didn't stop. The voice of his oldest registering, flooding him with relief, but not changing his intended destination. Practically leaping over the body of the ghoul, he fell to his knees and wrapped his boys up tight in his arms. So snug against his chest that no evil could ever touch them again.

"Dad."

The second breathless call made him loosen his hold just a bit, quickly clearing his eyes of tears and smiling down at his sons in joy and relief.

Bright green eyes stared back at him, scuffed up, but alright; alive and cradling his five-year-old brother to him in the same protective embrace that John had them both in. Maybe a somewhat better one since John could hardly see his youngest.

"You're okay?" Dean nodded and John checked him over quickly. "Let me see your brother."

Dean hesitated for a minute, John trying to assure him that it was alright once again. He had to use one of their code words before Dean relented, loosening his grip and revealing his brother.

Sam had a cut on his forehead and his nose was bleeding, but he looked fine otherwise. Bleary eyes focused on John and the man noted he'd have to watch both of them carefully in case of concussions.

"You with me Sammy?"

Sam stared for a moment and John's worry of head injuries rose. Finally, Sam smiled sleepily at John, already snuggling back against his brother's chest.

"It's okay daddy. Safe now."

John huffed a laugh, suddenly boneless with relief.

"Alright. You okay to walk Dean?"

His oldest nodded and started to stand with Sam in his arms. John moved to take Sam and was startled when Dean resisted.

"It's alright Dean. Danger's past now. You did good, son." The boy slowly relented and John picked Sam up carefully, his baby's head lolling over his shoulder contentedly. Kid was exhausted. Dean watched him the whole time and John felt, irrationally he told himself, that he was being judged in his ability to care for Sam.

The hunter ushered them all in the direction of the Impala, making sure Dean stayed close to his side. The pre-teen clenched his fingers in the fabric on the edge of John's coat. They were all feeling a bit clingy after this one.

John Winchester was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but he was also not one to let things go unexplained for too long.

"Dean," he started, getting the boy's attention. "How did you bring that ghoul down?"

Dean yawned and shook his head.

"I didn't." John cut his eyes to look at him. "No rounds left in the gun. I forgot what you said about hitting their head and I…kinda panicked. It was too close to Sam and I was just shooting to keep it away. Sorry, dad…"

The sleepy tone couldn't cover up the remorse or fear of disappointment and it wasn't enough to stop John's heart beat from picking up either.

"You did fine, Dean." And he had. The kids were too young for this. John still didn't know how the thing had found his boys to begin with…

But now he had other concerns stamping around in his gut. With Sam drooling on his shoulder, John cleared his throat and used his calmest tone.

"Dean, if you didn't kill the ghoul, what did?"

Small shoulders shrugged.

"I dunno. Sammy was really freaked out. I was holding him and he kept squirming and saying it was bad and trying to hurt us. I tried to stay between them, but it kept getting closer and Sam yelled for me really loud. Then it just…dropped."

Much like John's stomach. Memories surfaced in John's mind unbidden.

Music played from the carousel over Sam's crib when he was sure he and Mary hadn't turned it on.

He had forgotten to get Sam's bottle once soon after the fire and had gone to the baby's side feeling horrible only to find Sam happily sucking away on the bottle that had been on the nightstand. A quick search had revealed Dean to still be sleeping.

Finally, a phone call from a babysitter telling him that Sam wouldn't stop crying out for John to 'get Dean', 'check Dean'. The call from school telling him that Dean was sick and needed to be picked up came not even a moment after she'd hung up.

And there were so many more small things that John was suddenly thinking of without meaning to; things he had dismissed over the years, first out of ignorance, then out of stubborn denial. Just as quickly as they came, he was assuring himself that he was just weary and sleep-deprived and making something out of nothing once again, remembering things incorrectly.

He had to be.

Dean suddenly perked up, looking up at John and smiling.

"Hey, you think maybe it listened?" Dean looked up at Sam, smiling. "Maybe we have a monster tamer on our hands." Dean spoke in a happy, almost proud, manner; like it was normal for a vicious killer of a creature to just drop dead in front of you because your little brother screamed.

John attempted a smile back, but couldn't quite pull it off. He just kept walking, reminding himself to drill into Dean later about how important it was to never ever say anything like that about his little brother around other people.

A few feet later and Dean stumbled, just as exhausted as his brother. John reacted immediately to steady him and hoisted the older boy up with his other arm and over his shoulder; all the while ignoring protests on how he was 'too old for this' and he should hold Sammy more carefully, with both arms.

The words died off quickly and Dean was as gone as his brother into (hopefully) peaceful dreams.

The hunter banished all thoughts about the strange happenings in his family from his mind along with the question of what had really happened to that ghoul tonight. They were all alive and everything was fine. He decided to believe, just this once, that Mary had been right and angels really were looking out for them.

It was easier to believe it was angels then…

Continuing on toward the Impala, John wondered if it was just coincidence that both his boy's heads were turned toward each other. And he vehemently hoped that when the sibling's hands swayed close together, the jolt of power he felt up the back of his neck was only static electricity.


End file.
